Christmas in Beallsville
by TwilightPony21
Summary: Harm and Mac spend the holiday season together in Beallsville, Pennsylvania. Twenty-five Christmas ficlets.
1. Santa Claus

**Hi, everyone! While I was writing** ** _Autumn in Beallsville_** **, beatrixacs just happened to mention winter and Christmas ficlets. Well, that got my muse thinking again – and this is what happened. :)**

 **This story is a little bit of a sequel to** ** _Autumn in Beallsville_** **, although I think it's mostly okay as a stand alone fic.**

 **There are 25 ficlets in honor of Christmas, and since I might not be able to post every day, I decided to start posting now so that I'll be able to finish in plenty of time for Christmas. So if you're not quite in the mood for Harm and Mac Christmas fluff this early, I hope you'll come back to read a little later.**

 **Thank you again, beatrixacs, for the idea. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.**

* * *

 **Santa Claus**

* * *

Harriet Sims Roberts was desperately trying to get some of her Christmas shopping done, but it was difficult when her shopping companion was distracted by every Christmas delight that they passed in the mall. Completely enchanted by all of the toys, treats, lights, and decorations, his eyes were wide with excitement and he couldn't stop bouncing up and down.

"Mommy!" A.J. exclaimed. "Look, it's Santa! Can we go see him?"

A.J. pointed eagerly towards one of the shops where several other children were forming a line to greet the jolly man in red.

Harriet sighed. It was almost Christmas after all, and she just couldn't say no to her son. Taking his hand, she waited in line with him until it was his turn.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" Santa's deep voice boomed as he hoisted A.J. onto his lap. "What's your name?"

"A.J."

"And what do you want for Christmas, A.J.?"

"Lots of presents for my family," the little boy answered promptly.

"Well, that's very generous of you, A.J.," Santa said. "And what does your family want for Christmas?"

"A pretty dress for my mommy," A.J. said. "And a model spaceship for my daddy."

"Well, I'll see what I can do about that," Santa promised.

"And a drawing book for my Uncle Mikey," A.J. continued. "And a baseball glove for my Uncle A.J."

"Well, luckily, the elves will have plenty of drawing books and baseball gloves loaded on the sleigh," Santa assured him.

"And a basketball for my Uncle Sturgis, so he can play against my Uncle Harm."

At this point, Santa caught Harriet's eye, and Harriet could tell that Santa was wondering just how many uncles this little boy had.

"A.J., honey, I think it's time to go," Harriet said sternly. "Santa is very busy getting ready for Christmas."

"But Mommy, I still have to ask for a present for Uncle Harm."

"And what does your Uncle Harm want for Christmas?" Santa asked patiently.

A.J.'s expression turned very serious. "Santa, can you please bring him my Aunt Mac?"


	2. Travel

**Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you like chapter 2!**

 **(Apologies for any misspellings of Beallsville - I've seen it spelled a variety of ways in the JAG world, and I'm not sure the show ever really specified. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Thanks!)**

* * *

 **Travel**

* * *

 _"_ _We deploy the day after tomorrow."_

 _Trish's face fell as her husband's words sank in. "So you'll be gone for Christmas again."_

 _"_ _I know, sweetheart," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. "I'm sorry."_

 _"_ _How long will you be gone this time?"_

 _"_ _Don't know."_

 _Out of the corner of her eye, Trish noticed a small figure enter the kitchen, and she pulled away from her husband's embrace. "Well, you make sure you tell your son, okay?"_

 _"_ _Daddy?"_

 _The sad voice behind him tugged hard at the heart of the tall Navy pilot. He turned around and knelt on the floor to face his son, and instantly, the boy understood._

 _"_ _Don't worry, Little Harm, I'll be back before you know it. You be good for your mother, okay?"_

 _And as his father's strong arms wrapped around him, Little Harm held on tight._

~*~o~*~

"Good morning, sir."

Early the next morning, Bud knocked softly on Harm's office door.

"The files for the Patterson court-martial just arrived, but we won't be scheduling anything until after the holidays."

He laid several thick file folders down on Harm's desk, but the commander didn't even seem to notice. He was staring oddly off into space, his chin resting in his hand and a distant look in his eyes.

"Are you okay, sir?" Bud asked with concern. "Sir? … Commander?"

Harm jumped a little. "Huh? Yeah. Oh, sorry, Bud."

"Guess you need a vacation a little more than you thought you did," Bud teased with a smile. "It's okay, sir. We're all ready for a vacation here. Aren't you going to Pennsylvania this year?"

Harm straightened in his chair, suddenly returning to reality from wherever he had previously been. "Yeah, I'm going to spend Christmas with my grandmother. My mom and Frank are flying out from California."

"Well, that's great, sir."

"You doing anything for the holidays, Bud?"

"Harriet and I are taking little A.J. to Florida," Bud replied. "We're going to visit with her parents for a few days."

* * *

"Well, that sounds great, Harriet," Mac said in the office next door at the exact same time.

Harriet looked skeptical. "Well, it sounds like something, ma'am," she said. "But I'm not sure that my family and Bud's family in the same house at Christmas time is such a great idea."

"It'll be fine, Harriet," Mac assured her.

"I hope so, ma'am," Harriet said doubtfully. "Are you doing anything special for the holidays this year, ma'am?"

"Well," Mac said quietly, a soft smile creeping onto her face. "I'm going to Pennsylvania."


	3. Carols

**Carols**

* * *

 _Can't you hear them bells ringin', ringin',_

 _Joy to all, hear them singin'_

 _When it's snowing, I'll be goin'_

 _Back to my country home._

They were making pretty good time, Mac decided as they passed the "Welcome to Pennsylvania" sign on the highway. It was a chilly, gray winter morning, and there had even been some snow flurries overnight in Washington, but as they traveled further north, there was a much thicker blanket of snow on the ground.

They were driving the SUV to Beallsville this time, as it made more practical sense, and Harm wouldn't have allowed his beloved Corvette or his treasured Stearman outside in the winter weather anyway.

Mac laughed softly to herself. It was okay with her. She didn't mind the car ride, with the radio playing Christmas carols softly in the background, and she was simply glad to have Harm's company.

She studied his handsome profile as he drove. Out of uniform, he finally looked relaxed behind the wheel of his SUV, and if he weren't driving, Mac could almost picture him strumming his guitar in time with the music.

 _He needs this vacation as much as I do_ , Mac realized.

She noticed that his right arm rested on the console between them, and Mac laid her hand over his. He glanced over at her and gave her a smile, and she returned it with a squeeze of his hand.

The comfort and strength that she drew from this man never ceased to amaze her. They had worked together for years now and been best friends for nearly as long. And at some point along the way, Mac had finally realized that she had fallen in love with him.

She wondered if maybe she should feel nervous about spending Christmas with his family. His grandmother Sarah had been so warm and welcoming the last time they were in Beallsville, but she had never met Trish and Frank before.

With that thought on her mind, she settled back against the seat, still holding his hand in hers.

An hour later, they stopped at a small diner in the Pennsylvania countryside for lunch. The restaurant was bright and cheery with icicle lights hanging from the roof, a small Christmas tree in the corner, and warm sandwiches and coffee on the menu.

And as she watched her partner sip his coffee across the table, Mac decided that there was nowhere else she would rather spend Christmas.


	4. Christmas card

**Just a very short ficlet right now, but the next chapter is also ready and I hope it will be posted soon. Thanks for reading, everyone!**

* * *

 **Christmas card**

* * *

The Rabb farm looked like the front of a Christmas card with its rolling hills, white fence, and grand old barn and farmhouse. This time of year, instead of the green summer meadows or the bright autumn foliage, the trees were bare and a white blanket of snow covered the ground.

But the weak winter sun was just starting to peek out from behind the clouds, scattering random sparkles across the snow, and Mac thought the farm looked just as pretty in winter as it did in any other season.

The front door of the farmhouse swung open, and Sarah Rabb stepped out when she heard the SUV come up the driveway. Dressed in a thick coat with warm, woolly mittens, she greeted Harm and Mac and kissed them both on the cheek.

"Come right in, both of you," she said excitedly. "I'm so glad you're here."

They stepped inside the house, instantly warmed by the fireplace and the big heart of the woman who lived here, and Mac felt as if she had stepped directly inside the magical scene on a Christmas card.


	5. Vacation

**Vacation**

* * *

After the long drive from Washington, Harm and Mac were both grateful to spend a relaxing evening in front of the fireplace. Curled up on the couch together, they absently watched the flames flicker in the hearth, and they could hear Sarah quietly bustling about in the kitchen.

Mac folded her legs up under herself and leaned against Harm's shoulder with a sigh. "Things have been so crazy lately," she said. "If I see one more Article 32 hearing cross my desk…"

"We have the Patterson court-martial after the holidays," Harm reminded her.

Mac nodded. "I know. And I don't think he'll go for the plea bargain on those charges—"

"No work talk, you two," Sarah scolded as she entered the room and heard the very end of the conversation. "You're on vacation. I don't want to hear 'plea bargain' or any other legal term come out of either of your mouths from now on. Is that understood, Colonel?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mac said, sharing an amused look with Harm.

"Commander?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harm echoed.

"Okay then." Sarah settled down in her rocking chair with a satisfied smile. "Now that you're Harm and Mac again, I have a job for the two of you. Would you please stop by Mary's farm tomorrow morning and pick up a Christmas tree?"


	6. Christmas tree

**Christmas tree**

* * *

 _"Eddie, are you sure nobody's gonna see us?"_

 _"Sarah, this farm has, like, a thousand acres of Christmas trees. Nobody's gonna see us back here."_

 _"Well, just to be sure, you better kill the lights."_

 _"All right, all right," Eddie grumbled. He turned off the car and the lights faded into the darkness. "Happy?"_

 _With the car now completely hidden among the low-hanging branches, Sarah snuggled in against Eddie's shoulder and took a sip of her drink. "Yes."_

 _She heard Eddie take a big slug of his own drink. "It's kinda nice out here," he slurred. "Maybe we oughta bring home a Christmas tree."_

 _Sarah giggled. "My dad would probably throw it out the window."_

 _"Oh. Well, I guess we'll just celebrate out here then." Eddie reached for the six-pack in the backseat. "Want another one?"_

 _Sarah nodded and eagerly reached for a can of beer._

 _She couldn't even smell the sweet, woodsy scent of the Christmas trees anymore. All she wanted to do was drown herself in the strong, overpowering scent of the alcohol._

~*~o~*~

 _O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree..._

The chords of the well-known Christmas carol hummed from the stereo as Mac wandered up and down the rows of evergreens at Beallsville's charming little Christmas tree farm. It was also an orchard that sold a variety of jams and jellies, and the fruity scents mixed with the spruce, fir, and pine smelled absolutely delicious.

When she came to the end of one of the rows, Mac gasped in delight. The last tree in the row was tall and sturdy with a thick covering of bright green needles. Mac leaned forward and breathed in the fresh scent of the beautiful evergreen.

"This one, Harm," she declared firmly.

"Harmon Rabb, Junior, is that you I see buying a Christmas tree?"

Harm turned around at the sound of his full name to see a plump, older woman waving at him with a big smile.

"Hi, Mary," he said politely. "Mac, this is Mary, the farm owner. Mary, this is Sarah MacKenzie."

"Your partner at JAG," Mary stated knowingly. "I've heard so much about the two of you. Your grandmother stops by the farm every few weeks, and every time it seems like she has a new story to tell. Two JAG lawyers, fighting for truth and justice in the U.S. military." Mary let out a high-pitched squeal. "Oooh, it all sounds so exciting."

"Well, I don't know how exciting it is when you have a stack of legal briefs and Article 32 hearings piled high on your desk," Mac said reasonably.

"Well, I think it's quite exciting," Mary argued. "All the investigations...the intrigue...the courtroom drama."

Harm laughed. "If you say so."

"So," Mary said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Are you two also partners _outside_ the courtroom?"

Harm and Mac looked at each other, their warm glances answering Mary's question more than their words ever could.

"We're working on it."


	7. Ornaments

**Hi, everyone! Sorry I missed posting for a few days - real life has been busy, which is why I wanted to start this story well before Christmas. I hope you like chapter 7 - thanks for reading!**

* * *

 **Ornaments**

* * *

"Grandma, are you sure that you have Christmas lights in here?" Harm asked, his voice deep and muffled as he talked into the closet.

"I'm quite sure, dear," Sarah called. "And since you're the only one tall enough to reach the top of the closet, that's why you're the one in there looking for them. Mac, while my grandson attempts to locate the Christmas lights, would you bring that box of ornaments over here?"

Mac did as she was asked, settling down comfortably on the couch next to Sarah. The beautiful spruce tree that they had picked up at the farm earlier now stood proudly in the living room, and Mac had to admit that she couldn't wait to decorate it.

Inside the box, there was a selection of bright, glittery ornaments, a long garland of red and green tinsel, and a shining gold star. There was also a smaller box with plenty of soft padding to protect its precious contents.

Sarah nodded at Mac to go ahead and open it, and Mac carefully unwrapped a delicate little ornament.

"A Stearman," she realized, holding the little glass biplane in her hand. It was exquisite, the craftsmanship absolutely precise from the wings and the cockpit all the way to the paint that read _U.S. Navy_ along the side.

"It belonged to Harm's grandfather," Sarah explained. "He flew a Stearman, you know. Earned those gold wings in her." She sighed dreamily. "He was devastatingly handsome. Passed that gene on to his son. Along with the flying gene." Her voice cracked. "He was killed flying off the _USS Hornet_ in '42."

"I'm sorry," Mac whispered.

Sarah let out a sigh and quickly wiped her moist eyes. "It's okay," she sniffled. "It was a long time ago now."

"You lost both your husband and your son to flying for the Navy," Mac said softly. "And you still live with that every day."

Sarah pressed a hand to her heart. "They live on in here, dear," she said. She motioned to Harm. "And I see them both every time I look at my grandson."


	8. Hot cocoa

**Hot cocoa**

* * *

Later that evening, Mac was on her way back to the living room with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa when the sight before her made her stop in her tracks.

Night had fallen quickly, plunging the outdoors into winter darkness, but the fully decorated Christmas tree set the house aglow with soft golden light. The fire was burning low by this point, and she saw Harm rise from the couch to add another log, the embers quickly crackling back to life. The flames cast dancing shadows upon his face, and Mac could have admired him from afar for a long time if he hadn't noticed her in the doorway.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said softly, entering the room and handing him a mug.

"Thanks."

They both settled back on the couch together, content to enjoy each other's company while sipping their thick, creamy cocoa in front of the fire.

"Mac?"

"Hmmm?" she murmured.

"I'm glad you're here."

She wasn't sure when her head had fallen to rest comfortably against his shoulder, but now she straightened to study his expression in the firelight. His eyes were dark with that half-lidded look that he reserved only for her, making her heart skip a beat, and Mac briefly wondered if this could be considered a Hallmark moment.

And when they both leaned in and their lips met in a sweet kiss that tasted of chocolate and cream, she decided that it definitely qualified.


	9. Sledding

**Thank you all for your nice comments on the last chapter. I love hearing from everyone who's following the story, and I'm really glad you like it so far. And now we continue with our countdown to Christmas...**

* * *

 **Sledding**

* * *

 _"Come on, Cheryl, hurry up!"_ _Sarah ran to the very top of the hill and raised her arms in triumph._

 _"I'm coming, I'm coming," Cheryl grumbled. The other little girl stomped to the top of the hill. She was getting cold, and there was snow stuck inside her boots. "Okay, I'm here."_

" _Ready?"_

 _Cheryl nodded, and she and Sarah clambered onto their little red sled and pushed off._

 _As the sled picked up speed, it churned up the snow in puffy white squalls, and Sarah squeezed her eyes shut against the icy cold stinging her cheeks._

 _"Sarah, we're going too fast!" Cheryl cried. "We're going to hit that bump!"_

 _"Wipe out!" Sarah yelled._

 _There was a sickening thud as the front of the sled suddenly catapulted into the air and overturned, and with two loud shrieks, the children tumbled headfirst into a snowbank._

~*~o~*~

"You okay, Marine?"

Mac scowled. It was a very steep hill, and they had been trudging through the deep snow for a while now.

"I'm fine," she panted. "How's Navy?"

"Navy's fine," Harm replied. "Because we're here."

As Mac stopped to catch her breath, the view almost took it away again. Looking out over the farm from the top of the hill was truly spectacular. The snowy fields stretched as far as she could see only to be touched by a winter sky that stretched even further.

Harm had been dragging a sled behind him the entire way up the hill, and now he moved it into position, its runners gliding smoothly on top of the snow.

"You really want to go sledding?" Mac asked doubtfully.

"Unless you want to walk back down."

Mac shot him an exasperated look.

"I used to sled down this hill all the time," Harm said. "You go so fast that you feel like you're flying."

He leaned in and his warm breath tickled her ear.

"What do you say, Marine?" he whispered. "You want to fly with me?"

Mac nearly trembled with anticipation. "You know I'd fly anywhere with you, flyboy."


	10. Stockings

**Stockings**

* * *

When the sled had finally slowed to a stop at the bottom of the hill, Harm and Mac had rolled off into the snow, both of them laughing.

Mac had sunk backwards into a snowdrift with Harm's weight on top of her, her cheeks red and flushed as much from the wind and cold as from the laughter.

And then she had felt his lips pressing warm kisses against her face, on her forehead, her cheeks, and in a line along her jaw, until he had finally claimed her mouth in a long, tender kiss.

Now they were both sitting by the fireplace again, warming up under cozy fleece blankets, as Sarah hung the Christmas stockings.

"Did you make them yourself?" Mac asked in admiration.

Sarah nodded. "Sewed every single one over the years."

First, she hung up a pretty gold stocking with her own name embroidered on the front.

Next to hers, she hung a dark green one. _Harmon_ , it read, and Mac realized that after all these years, she was still hanging up a stocking for her son.

Trish's stocking was red, with her name printed in block letters, and even Frank had his own stocking now.

Mac couldn't help but snicker at the red and green patched stocking with the bright yellow airplane, and she felt Harm kick her under the fleece blanket.

 _Little Harm_ , it read.

Then Sarah laid out a sixth stocking, a red and green striped one with _Mac_ written in gold cursive lettering.

"For me?" Mac asked in wonder.

"And why not?" Sarah replied as if it were a very simple answer. "You're a part of this family now, too."


	11. North Pole

**North Pole**

* * *

 _"_ _Okay, Harm, my stomach's growling. What do you say we trap this time?"_

 _"_ _Mace, you just want to get home in time for some of those Christmas cookies."_

 _"_ _Damn right I do," Mace retorted. "Before those other squids eat them all."_

 _Harm rolled his eyes. His RIO's thought process always seemed to involve his stomach._

 _But even Harm had to admit that he was glad to be headed home on Christmas Eve._ _With expert precision, his hands flew over the controls in the cockpit, bringing the Tomcat in line with the carrier deck._

 _"Tomcat 173, you're at a mile and a quarter. Call the ball."_

 _"_ _173 Tomcat. Ball, three point five."_

 _"_ _Roger, ball."_

 _As Harm guided the Tomcat home, catching the three wire and smoothly landing thousands of pounds of steel onto a strip of carrier deck, Mace let out a whoop._

 _"_ _Damn, Hammer, that was a fine piece of flying right there. I wouldn't be surprised if the North Pole calls and asks you to fly the sleigh and eight tiny reindeer tonight."_

 _Mace slapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, what do you say we go check out those Christmas cookies?"_

 _"What if there aren't any left?" Harm asked._

 _"Well, then someone's gonna have to answer to the wrath of my stomach."_

 _Harm grinned. "Maybe if you're a good boy, Santa will bring some more tonight."_

 _"Only if you land his sleigh on the carrier deck."_

 _As the two men headed below deck, ribbing each other all the way, the bright Christmas Eve sun just barely started its slow descent below the horizon._

 _It was unknown to both Harm and Mace that landing Santa's sleigh would have actually been a night trap that could have sealed both of their fates._

~*~o~*~

"Harm?"

Harm was shaken out of his dream by an urgent hand on his shoulder. He found himself stretched out on the couch, looking up with bleary eyes as Mac's image slowly came into focus.

"Hey," Mac said with a soft laugh. "Where were you? The North Pole?"

Harm groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Something like that."

"Well, come on, sailor. We'll be late for the Festival of Lights."


	12. Lights

**Hi, everyone! You might recognize a character here from chapter 3 in _Autumn in Beallsville -_ I thought it might be nice if he made another appearance for Christmas. Thanks for reading as we get closer and closer to the holiday!**

* * *

 **Lights**

* * *

Mac was thoroughly enjoying her stroll through the Beallsville Festival of Lights. There was an enormous Christmas tree and a beautiful display of candles, but it was actually more of a market where the local vendors gathered in the town square to sell a variety of Christmas goods and sweets.

When Harm and his grandmother weren't looking, Mac couldn't resist picking up one of the sweet jelly rolls dipped in powdered sugar. She slipped the vendor a couple of dollars and nibbled happily on her treat.

"Perhaps the pretty lady would like a glass of wine to wash down the sweet roll tonight?"

Mac smiled politely at the old man sitting in the next booth. "Oh, no, thank you, sir."

"All homegrown and homemade. Sammy makes Beallsville's wine right here in town."

"Oh, that's right," Mac said. "The grapes come from Sarah Rabb's farm."

Sammy squinted at her with a critical eye. "Oh, Sammy knows who you are," he said in a wheedling tone.

He reached out and shook her hand heartily, but Mac looked at him quizzically.

"Sarah," she stated, shaking his hand, "but you can call me Mac."

"Oh, Sammy knows your name." The old man's eyes twinkled. "And Sammy also knows that you are Harmon Rabb, Junior's intended."

Mac blushed. "Well…I don't know about that, Sammy."

"Oh, Sammy knows just by the way he looks at you. It's the same look his father used to give Miss Patricia."

Suddenly, Sammy held up a finger as if a light bulb were going off inside his head, and he turned away from Mac to rummage through some of the other boxes in his booth.

"Aha!" Sammy triumphantly pulled a dark blue bottle out of one of the boxes. "Vintage sparkling mineral water," he said, offering the bottle to Mac with a smile. "No alcohol at all. Sammy swears."

Mac tilted her head to regard him curiously. "How did you know?"

"Sammy always knows," he replied proudly. "And Sammy wishes you a very Merry Christmas."


	13. Mistletoe

**One of my very favorite scenes in JAG was Harm and Mac's kiss under the mistletoe. So I just couldn't write a Christmas ficlet story without a mistletoe chapter, and I hope you like Harm and Mac mistletoe kisses, too! :)**

* * *

 **Mistletoe**

* * *

"Sammy is an old friend," Sarah explained as they returned home later that night. "We've known him since before Harm was even born. And we've been growing grapes for the winery for years."

"Well, he's definitely a character," Mac laughed. "He knew exactly who I was before I even introduced myself."

"Mac, Sammy knows everything," Harm informed her. "Or at least he thinks he does."

"That he does," Sarah confirmed. "Well, that was a wonderful evening. I hope you both enjoyed yourself." She stopped in the hallway to remove her coat.

"We did, Grandma," Harm said, taking his grandmother's coat for her.

"Why, thank you, dear," she said. "Always such a gentleman. Now make sure you're a real gentleman and don't leave your lady without a good night kiss."

Harm raised an eyebrow.

"Good night," Sarah said with a twinkle in her eye.

She started up the stairs, and it was only then that Harm and Mac noticed the little sprig of mistletoe hanging high above the stairway.

Harm's eyes narrowed at the retreating form of his grandmother. "How'd you get that up there, Grandma?"

"A little bit of Christmas magic, dear," Sarah replied. She turned around and winked at them. "Don't go breaking tradition now, you hear?"

As she disappeared into the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Harm and Mac remained frozen where they were, staring at each other with slightly sheepish half-smiles.

"Well, we...uh, wouldn't want to break tradition," Harm whispered, his voice low and husky.

"No, we wouldn't," Mac agreed.

She took a step closer at the same time he did, and their lips met in a sweet, passionate kiss.

He tasted so good, Mac thought as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His mouth was warm and tender, and his hands on her hips pulled her flush against him, deepening the kiss until the only coherent thought that crossed her mind was that this was all she ever wanted for Christmas.


	14. Long distance relatives

**Long distance relatives**

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Chloe!"

Mac had to move the phone away from her ear as the shriek on the other end of the line nearly deafened her.

"Mac!" Chloe exclaimed. "I didn't expect you to call today! Merry Christmas!"

"How are you?"

"Fabulous," Chloe replied. "So excited for Christmas. And you know what the best part is? My dad's going to be home this year."

"Oh, that's great, Chloe," Mac said sincerely.

"Yesterday I went Christmas shopping with one of my friends, Michelle. And I got my dad this really fancy new watch and my grandparents some new books, and I even got Scout a Santa hat."

"Oh, I'm sure Scout will...um, appreciate that," Mac said, wondering if the horse would mind dressing up for the holiday.

"Michelle is really cool," Chloe continued. "She's in my math class and she loves shopping. Usually she goes with her sister, and I told her that I had a big sister, and she said, 'well, why doesn't she come shopping with us some time?' And I told her you couldn't because you lived in Washington, and she thought that was the coolest thing ever. And then I found you the cutest Christmas present at the mall. Wait until you see it...I just mailed it a couple days ago."

Chloe finally took a deep breath, and Mac laughed. "Well, I can't wait to see it. But I'm not in Washington right now."

"You're not?" Chloe asked. "Where are you?"

Mac twisted the phone cord shyly, grateful that Chloe couldn't see the heat rising in her cheeks. "Pennsylvania."

Chloe could hear it, though. "Is Harm there with you?"

Now Mac did blush as she thought about their steamy kiss under the mistletoe last night.

"It's his family's farm," she managed to say.

Chloe squealed excitedly. "So when you and Harm finally get married, are you going to have a Christmas wedding on a farm? That would be so beautiful, Mac. I think you definitely should. You could even come to our farm here in Vermont, although it really snows a lot here. I don't know if you want to get married in the snow."

"Chloe!"

"Oh, come on, Mac. Just admit already that you two are perfect for each other. Remember when I had that dream that you two got married and I was your flower girl?"

"And I told you that not all dreams come true, Chloe," Mac argued.

"Except at Christmas time, Mac. Dreams always come true at Christmas time."


	15. Baking

**Hi, everyone! Can you believe we're about four weeks away from Christmas now? Only 10 more ficlets to go after this one, so we should be done in plenty of time for Christmas. I'm really having a lot of fun writing Harm and Mac at Christmas time, and I love hearing that you're enjoying the story. Thank you all for reading and for your nice comments!**

* * *

 **Baking**

* * *

 _"Harm, would you like some cinnamon cookies?" Sarah called._

 _Harm was lying on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. "No."_

 _"Are you sure?"_

 _"Well, maybe I'll eat one."_

 _"Good," Sarah said. "Then come help me bake them."_

 _With a heavy sigh, Harm reached for his crutches and hobbled out into the kitchen. He stumbled as he made his way to the counter, grabbing for the arm of a chair and hissing in pain as he tried to steady himself._

 _"Damn it, Grandma, I can't even walk."_

 _"Harm, you just need to be patient. This isn't something you're going to recover from right away." She handed him a spoon and a bowl filled with flour and sugar. "Now start mixing."_

 _Sarah could see the pain on her grandson's face even as he lifted his arm to pick up the spoon. His whole body was either sore, swollen, or broken, and dark black and blue bruises ran in jagged lines down his face. But she could tell the hurt ran much deeper than that._

 _"You'll walk again," Sarah promised._

 _"Yeah, I just won't fly."_

 _Harm's hand curled into a fist and he let out an angry growl of frustration._

 _His grandmother simply handed him a chunk of dough. "Here, dear. Make some cookies out of this, okay?"_

 _He tore the dough into tiny pieces, blindly dropping them on the cookie sheet, and Sarah watched him with great concern. But she said nothing, as she knew he would have to heal on his own from the ramp strike that had broken not only his body but his heart._

 _Later, as she slid the last batch of cookies into the oven, Sarah turned to her grandson. "They'll need to bake for quite a while. How about you come out to the barn with me?"_

 _"I'm not really in the mood, Grandma."_

 _"You ever look under that old tarp in the barn?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Well, then come with me," Sarah said. "I want to show you something."_

~*~o~*~

"You've done this before," Mac observed.

Harm grinned as he mixed the cookie batter with a wooden spoon. "And what makes you say that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Mac teased. "Maybe the fact that you don't even have to look at the recipe."

"You never forget how to make Grandma's cinnamon cookies, Mac."

Mac had to admit that she was truly impressed with the way her partner could turn flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and cinnamon into a batch of soft, creamy, melt-in-your-mouth cookies.

"Harm, you know," she mused in a silly, sweet voice, "if the whole lawyer thing doesn't work out someday, you could always become a chef."

He scoffed as he dropped teaspoons of dough onto a cookie sheet. "Right, I'm sure the admiral would love it if I changed my designator again."

Mac shrugged. "Just a suggestion."

But she couldn't hide her mischievous smile as she stole a spoonful of cookie dough out of the bowl.


	16. Eggnog

**Eggnog**

* * *

 _"Sweetheart, why don't you get ready for bed?" Deanne called to her daughter. "Santa's coming tonight, you know."_

 _Sarah had been sprawled out on the living room floor, reading a book, but she jumped up at the prospect of Santa Claus arriving soon._

 _"Go put on your pajamas," Deanne urged. "I'll be there in a minute to say good night."_

 _Sarah hurried down the hallway to her bedroom and had just disappeared around the corner when there was a loud bang._

 _"Deanne!" Joseph MacKenzie's drunken voice hollered loudly from the front door._

 _"Joseph," Deanne acknowledged him. "Where have you been?"_

 _He chuckled as he swayed on his feet. His breath reeked of too much eggnog, and he swung a heavy, clumsy arm around his wife._

 _"Out celebrating, baby. It's Christmas."_

 _"Well, I think maybe you did a little too much celebrating," Deanne said calmly, removing her husband's arm from her shoulders._

 _"What are you talking about?" he slurred. He leaned in to give her a sloppy kiss. "Maybe you should come out and celebrate with me."_

 _"No," Deanne said sharply._

 _"No? What do you mean no?" Angrily, Joseph grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards._

 _"Joseph, let me go! Oh!" A painful cry escaped Deanne's throat as he lashed out and struck her hard on the side of her face._

 _"_ _Mama?"_

 _Upon hearing the commotion, Sarah had crept back into the living room, and now she reached out to her mother with concern._

 _"_ _Sarah, go back to bed," Deanne whispered urgently._

 _"_ _Who are you talking to?" Joseph demanded, stumbling over his own two feet as he spun around in his drunken stupor._

 _Quickly, Sarah scurried back to bed, burrowing herself deep under the covers and squeezing her eyes shut to stop the hot tears brimming on her lashes._

 _That was the night she lost just a little more faith in the spirit of Christmas._

~*~o~*~

"Mac?"

Mac had been staring absently out the window, and she jumped at the sound of her name and the gentle touch on her arm.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Sarah said.

"No, it's fine," Mac said quickly. "I was just…daydreaming."

"A good dream?" Sarah asked.

"Uh…not exactly." Mac shook her head, trying to rid herself of the bad memories. "But I'm fine."

"If you say so, dear." Harm's grandmother studied her with an unnerving eye, suggesting that she suspected more but wouldn't push. "Would you mind giving me a hand with wrapping some Christmas presents?"


	17. Presents

**Presents**

* * *

 _"Your present was a little hard to wrap this year," Matthew O'Hara informed his niece as he struggled to maintain his hold on a large red box with several big holes in it._

 _"Really? What is it?" Sarah asked._

 _"Woof!"_

 _Sarah's eyes grew wide as her Uncle Matt finally released his grip and the cardboard crumpled as a furry white puppy bounded out of the box. He barked and wagged his tail excitedly, leaping on Sarah and licking her face._

 _"Matt!" Deanne scolded. "How could you get her a dog?"_

 _"Well, the furry guy needed a home," Matt explained. "And your daughter needed a dog."_

 _"My daughter did not need a dog," Deanne argued._

 _"You're right," Matt replied dryly. "I actually got him for my sister. His name is Ruggles."_

 _"Ruggles, sit!" Sarah commanded._

 _The dog obeyed._

 _"Speak!"_

 _"Woof!"_

 _Matt grinned. "She's already got him trained."_

 _"Or he's got her trained," Deanne muttered as Sarah tossed a bit of leftover meat from Christmas dinner to the dog._

 _"Ruggles, fetch!"_

 _Sarah threw a piece of rope across the room, and Ruggles raced after it, grabbing it in his teeth and bringing it back to Deanne, slobbering all over her and jumping up to lick her face._

 _Deanne winced and backed away from the dog, an odd reaction that didn't go unnoticed by her brother._

 _"Deanne, what happened to your face?" Matt asked._

 _Deanne's hand flew to her cheek and she turned her head away. "Nothing," she said quickly. She didn't want him to know about her husband's angry, drunken rampage on Christmas Eve._

 _Ruggles whined and snuffled his big, wet nose against her swollen cheek. Deanne laughed a little and rubbed his head affectionately._

 _"Mama, he likes you!" Sarah exclaimed._

 _The puppy's antics brought such a smile to her daughter's face that Deanne found her resolve quickly melting away. S_ _he didn't realize that it was simply a mask for the sadness and resentment that had already been planted deep inside Sarah's heart that Christmas Eve._

 _"Okay," she finally said. "We can keep him. Merry Christmas, sweetheart."_

~*~o~*~

"Here's another one," Sarah said to Mac, handing her a large rectangular box.

"No problem," Mac said, spreading another roll of shiny gold wrapping paper out on the kitchen table.

Mac wrapped Christmas presents with military precision, Harm realized as he watched her from across the room. Neatly and methodically, with tightly creased corners. All of the boxes she had already wrapped were stacked high on one end of the table.

When she caught her grandson's eye, Sarah rose from her chair and walked over to him, leaving Mac to finish up the wrapping.

"She's quite good at this," Sarah remarked.

"Yes, she is," Harm agreed. He grinned. "Guess you should have a Marine wrap all your Christmas presents from now on, Grandma."

Sarah shrugged. "Sometimes there are Christmas presents that can't be wrapped." With a secret smile, she avoided her grandson's gaze. "Like the gift you're giving Mac this year."

"And what am I giving her?" Harm asked innocently.

"Your heart."


	18. Toys

**Toys**

* * *

Mac wasn't quite sure what to expect when Sarah asked them to drop off the presents at the local shelter on the way to the airport to pick up Trish and Frank. Sarah had donated to the organization for years, and she said it was an excellent cause. It was a safe house for many kids in the neighborhood, whether they were orphans or just needed a place to stay out of trouble.

"Hi, I'm Amy," the friendly lady at the front desk greeted them. "Thanks so much for bringing these toys in. Would you like to help hand them out? The kids will love them."

As Amy had promised, the kids' eyes lit up at the sight of so many brightly colored packages. There were plenty of presents for all of them, and Mac felt her heart swell as the gifts disappeared in a whirlwind of chatter and excitement.

 _I think my biological clock is going off again_ , Mac thought. She had been hitting the snooze button awfully hard lately.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

Mac looked down at the slight tug on her pants leg to see a young boy holding one of the presents.

"Can I have this one, please, ma'am?"

Mac was surprised by the little boy's politeness. "Of course, sweetheart," she said.

He eagerly ripped open the wrapping paper and held up the toy. "It's an airplane," he told her.

"Do you like airplanes?"

The little boy nodded. "When I grow up, I'm gonna fly airplanes!"

Mac grinned. "Well, then, I think there's someone you should meet."


	19. Angel

**Angel**

* * *

"Tommy looks like he's having the time of his life." Amy laughed as she watched the little boy's face completely riveted on Harm. "He can talk about airplanes for hours."

"Well…" Mac drawled in amusement. "So can Harm."

"Your husband is great with kids," Amy said.

"Oh, he's not my husband," Mac answered automatically.

"Boyfriend?"

Mac paused. Was Harm her boyfriend? She supposed they were 'together,' but she hadn't ever really called him that before.

Did a girlfriend work with her boyfriend every day? Did she battle him fiercely in court? Did she travel around the world with him – in the air, on land, and sea? Did she eject out of Russian fighter jets with him?

Mac considered the idea. Maybe he was.

"I wish I had met someone like him a long time ago," Amy said wistfully. "I might have gotten my life back on track earlier."

Mac looked at her questioningly.

"I was an orphan," Amy explained. "And a teenage alcoholic. It was this shelter that saved my life. That's why I still work here. I just want to give something back to these kids now."

"Amy—" Mac began.

Amy held up a hand. "Don't pity me. My parents died when I was young, but the alcoholism was my own fault, and I realize that."

"I was just going to say that I understand," Mac said quietly. "It's not an easy thing to go through."

Amy studied Mac closely and the realization suddenly dawned on her. "You do understand."

"Maybe I do."

"But he came along when you needed him most."

Mac glanced over at Harm. She couldn't deny the longing in her heart as she watched Tommy chatter excitedly on his lap. From the way Harm was holding the toy airplane, Mac suspected that he was explaining the technical terms of the cockpit to the little boy.

"He's helped me through a lot," Mac finally admitted. "He's my partner and my best friend."

"Maybe he's more than that," Amy said. "Maybe he's really your guardian angel."

 _Maybe_ , Mac thought.

Maybe angels really did wear dress whites and gold wings.


	20. Family

**Hi, everyone! I can't believe we're on chapter 20 as Christmas is quickly approaching! These last few ficlets will be a little more Harm-centric. I hope you find them fluffy and romantic but still in character for Harm and Mac. Thank you all for following this story, and I hope you're having a wonderful holiday season.**

* * *

 **Family**

* * *

 _"Mrs. Patricia Rabb, the United States Navy regrets to inform you that the aircraft of Lieutenant Harmon Rabb, Senior, was shot down over Vietnam on December 24, 1969."_

 _Those words – and the way her heart stopped when she heard them – haunted her for a very long time._

 _There were so many nights when she couldn't sleep, and Trish lay alone in her bed, surrounded by a stack of letters and cassette tapes. They offered her just a little bit of comfort, to see his handwriting, to read his words, and to listen to his voice._

 _But they broke her heart at the same time, and there was one night when Trish suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to hold her son._

 _She selected one of the tapes and hurried into his bedroom. He was sound asleep, but Trish couldn't resist wrapping her arms tightly around him anyway._

 _"Hi, darling," she whispered against his hair._

 _"Mom?" he murmured sleepily._

 _"I wanted you to hear something." Trish pressed the play button on the little cassette player, and there was a soft whirring as the tape started._

 _"Morning, Trish, Little Harm."_

 _"Daddy?" The little boy perked up at the sound of his father's voice._

 _"No, darling, they're letter tapes," Trish explained. "Your father recorded them for us while he was away."_

 _"We're launching for a reconnaissance mission early this morning, but Tom says we'll be back in time for breakfast. I don't know what's for breakfast today, but Trish, I'm sure whatever you're cooking is better than what we're having. So you make sure Little Harm eats every bite so he'll grow up big and strong…"_

 _And on that lonely night, both Harm and Trish fell asleep listening to the warm baritone voice of Harmon Rabb, Senior._

~*~o~*~

Trish Burnett hadn't hesitated in accepting the invitation to come to Pennsylvania for the holidays. Even after Harmon was gone, Sarah Rabb had always welcomed Trish into her home. When Trish had remarried, Sarah hadn't even thought twice about welcoming Frank, too.

 _You're family_ , she had said. _And you always will be_.

Trish knew that it was because Sarah wanted to have the chance to watch her grandson grow up. She didn't want to lose the living link to her own son.

Trish sighed. But it hadn't always been easy.

Harm's devotion to his father had consumed him for his entire life. It had driven a wedge between him and Frank, nearly gotten him killed in Vietnam, and then nearly gotten him killed in Russia.

Twice.

She knew that her son bordered on obsessive, but sometimes his heart simply would not let go.

Trish believed that it would take someone very special to fill that void inside his heart.

As she stepped into the airport terminal, she saw her late husband's mirror image standing by the baggage claim. And when she saw the woman standing next to him, Trish knew that she was the one.


	21. Ice

**Hi, everyone! Sorry, I had hoped to post this chapter a little earlier, but it's been a really busy week. I'm still planning to finish the story before Christmas.** **I think we'll definitely end at 25 ficlets, but I'm so glad that you're enjoying reading because I'm really enjoying writing.** **I hope you find that 25 ficlets ends the story in a good place.** **Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 **Ice**

* * *

 _"Harm?" Trish stopped in the doorway of her son's bedroom, her long dress twirling around her ankles as she fastened a pretty pearl necklace around her neck. "Can you please help your grandmother with dinner?"_

 _"Why? Are you going out with Frank?" The disdain was obvious in his voice._

 _"Yes, I am."_

 _"_ _Why?"_

 _"_ _Because he's a nice man," Trish answered defensively._

 _"He's not my father."_

 _"No, he's not."_

 _Harm stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and sank down on his bed. With a heavy sigh, Trish stepped into the room and eased herself onto the bed next to him._

 _"_ _Little Harm," she whispered soothingly, running a hand through her son's hair._

 _He squirmed away and swung his legs over the other side of the bed. "Don't call me that."_

 _"_ _Little Harm," Trish repeated insistently. "I will never forget your father. No one, not Frank or anybody else, will ever replace him. Nothing can erase his memory or the legacy he leaves behind. You will always be Harmon Rabb, Junior...do you understand that, darling?"_

 _But it would take a lifetime before he did._

~*~o~*~

"Wow, it's really coming down out there!" Frank exclaimed, lugging his and Trish's suitcases in the front door.

"Here, Frank, let me help you with that," Harm said, closing the door behind him and reaching for one of the suitcases.

"Oh, thanks, Harm." Frank shivered. "We must have at least three inches of snow out there already."

Harm grinned. "You're not in La Jolla anymore, Frank."

"Oh, right, I must have temporarily forgotten," Frank joked.

The two men rolled the suitcases into the living room next to the fireplace, and Frank sighed in relief at the welcome warmth.

"So you and Mac decided to spend Christmas together this year," Frank said. "Your mother goes on and on about how she's quite the girl."

Harm rolled his eyes.

"You ever think about taking the next step?"

"Maybe."

"So what's holding you back?"

Harm shrugged.

Frank bravely looked his stepson in the eye. "Harm, I know I'm not the one you want to hear this from, but let me tell you anyway. You've been looking for something in your life for a long time. You deserve to be happy. You deserve her."

"Frank, why are you doing this?" Harm asked, truly puzzled.

"Well, like I said before," Frank continued in an oddly compassionate tone, "Harm, you're the only son I ever had."

The two men simply stared at each other for a long moment until they heard footsteps entering the room behind them.

"Hey, what are my two boys doing in here?" Trish asked.

"Warming up," Frank replied with a chuckle. "My southern California bones weren't made for this kind of weather."

He dropped a light kiss on Trish's cheek as Harm looked on.

It didn't hurt as much anymore, Harm decided.

The iciness between him and Frank had finally melted.

His mother had found a way to mend her broken heart.

And maybe that's what he had been trying to do all along, too.


	22. Prayer

**Prayer**

* * *

Sarah Rabb loved preparing Christmas Eve dinner for her family.

Early in the morning, she had shooed everyone out of the kitchen, despite multiple offers to help, and by late afternoon, the old farmhouse was filled with delicious, mouth-watering smells. She laid out her best china dishes on a lacy white tablecloth and spread the meal out on the table. There was a roast turkey crisped to perfection with a selection of potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, sauces, breads, fruits, and vegetables. There were even several different kinds of pies – pumpkin, apple, cherry, and blueberry – cooling on the counter for dessert.

Harm and Mac were seated on one side, Trish and Frank on the other, with a fifth place set for Sarah at the head of the table. Frank wielded a large knife to carve the turkey while the others observed with smiles and laughter.

Sarah stopped at the threshold to the dining room, the emotions suddenly welling up inside her chest.

 _Look at your family, Harmon._

 _Your beloved Trish…as lovely as the first day you laid eyes on her._

 _And Frank, the kind man who helped heal her heart but could never replace you in it._

 _And your handsome son, Little Harm, all grown up now...unrivaled in the air and in the courtroom._

 _And his beautiful Marine…Mac, the woman who finally won his heart._

 _Wherever you are, Harmon, I know you're looking down on us tonight. Merry Christmas, my son. I love you._

Sarah bowed her head as she finished her silent prayer, and brushing the tears from her eyes, she joined her family for Christmas Eve dinner.


	23. Star

**Star**

* * *

"Darling, what on earth are you doing out here? It's freezing, and it's starting to snow again."

Trish zipped up her coat and stepped out on the porch where her son was leaning against the railing, gazing off into the distant night sky. She saw him snap a small black box closed between his fingers and quickly slip it into his pocket.

"Just…thinking, Mom."

"About?"

Harm didn't answer, but it wasn't hard for Trish to guess.

"Your father?" she asked.

The pained look on his face told her that she had guessed correctly. She moved to her son's side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Mom, sometimes I just wonder," Harm began quietly, "if he were still here…what it would be like to talk to him."

Trish sighed. "I wonder the same thing, darling."

She squeezed his arm gently and rested her head against his shoulder. Mother and son stood in silence for a moment, both lost in memories of the man they had loved so much.

"Darling, how long have you been carrying around that ring?"

"What?"

Trish smiled devilishly.

"A while now," Harm admitted. "Guess that's kind of what I wanted to talk to Dad about."

"Oh, darling," Trish breathed. She grabbed both of her son's arms and turned him towards her. "If you want to ask Mac to marry you, there is no one who would be happier for you than your father. Except for maybe your mother."

She had expected him to laugh at her eagerness to marry him off, but instead his eyes clouded over, and he turned away silently, torn between wanting to believe his mother and wishing he could hear the actual words from his father.

The snow was barely falling now, a quiet winter stillness overtaking the endless black sky, when a sudden flash of light streaked through the darkness.

"Mom, I think that was a shooting star."

Trish hugged her son tightly. "No, darling, I think that was your father's blessing."


	24. Tradition

**Tradition**

* * *

 _"Up you go, son."_

 _In one smooth motion, Harmon Rabb, Senior, lifted his son into the brightly colored roller coaster car and then climbed in beside him._

 _"Hold on tight," he instructed, and Little Harm obediently grasped onto the handle bar in front of him._

 _"This is going to be our last ride," Harmon explained, looking out over the old amusement park a little wistfully. "They're going to tear this place down soon." He flashed a grin at his son. "But they'll know we were here."_

 _He pulled a small knife out of his pocket and carefully carved three neat block letters into the side of the car._

 _HR2._

 _Little Harm watched his father intently, although he was too young to understand the meaning of the carving._

 _"_ _Don't worry, son. You'll understand someday. Now are you ready to ride this roller coaster?"_

 _Little Harm nodded eagerly. "Of course, Daddy. I want to fly!"_

~*~o~*~

"Harm, what are we doing?" Mac asked.

The snow was coming down steadily again, and the temperature was quickly dropping, so she was puzzled as to why Harm had asked her to come outside to the barn.

"Following Christmas Eve tradition," he replied.

"Aren't we a little far from the Wall this year?"

"This is a different wall. Come on."

Harm pulled open the heavy door to the barn and closed it tightly behind them once they were inside. He shook the snowflakes from his jacket while Mac did the same. He hung the lantern on the side of the ladder to the hayloft, throwing out just enough light for them to see their cold puffs of breath.

Then he headed up the ladder, and Mac followed. She watched him curiously as he paced the hayloft and brushed away the dust in several places, running his fingers over the grain of the wood, as if he were searching for something.

"Mac," he finally said, taking her hand. "Look here."

Mac squinted in the dim light, and she could just barely make out the words.

 _Harm and Trish._

Two names carved into the wall of the hayloft, as if they had been engraved on their own memorial so many years ago.

"Mac."

Her name was softer than a whisper on his tongue. Even in the darkness, she could feel the fierce intensity in his eyes focused entirely on her, and it brought a flush to her face in the chilly winter air. His hand tightened around hers, pulling her close, his other hand reaching up to caress her cheek and the warmth of his body setting her on fire as he captured her lips in a long, lingering kiss.

At last, he drew back and rested his forehead against hers.

"Marry me," he whispered.

Mac's heart leapt into her throat. "What?" she asked breathlessly.

Harm pressed another kiss to her lips as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box, opening it to reveal a snow white diamond.

"Mac, you're my partner…and my best friend...and now I'm asking you to be my wife."

And on that snowy Christmas Eve night, when Mac looked deep into the eyes of the man she knew she was meant to be with, she saw the iron walls around his heart crumbling down, and she felt the walls around her own heart doing the same.


	25. Christmas morning

**Hi, everyone!** **I can't believe we've made it to the very last ficlet.** **Thank you all for following this story and for all of your reviews and comments.** **I hope you find this to be a quiet, simple ending – the way I always hoped Harm and Mac would wake up on Christmas morning together.** **I hope you enjoyed the 25 ficlets – thank you for reading, and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.**

* * *

 **Christmas morning**

* * *

The snow had continued to come down heavily overnight, and there was a fresh white winter wonderland outside, with icy crystals of frost clinging to the window.

But when the first rays of Christmas morning sunshine touched Mac's eyelashes, she didn't want to wake up. She sighed contentedly in her sleep and snuggled deeper into the heavenly warmth – the soft, smooth sheets against her skin, a thick, plush comforter on top of her, and strong arms wrapped around her waist.

She had always been safe in those arms.

After he slid the diamond onto her left hand last night, he had handed her a knife, and she had carved their names in the hayloft wall next to his parents.

 _Harm and Mac_ , she had written.

Because she had always been Mac to him.

And for her, it had always been Harm.

From the courtrooms to the fighter planes to the carriers to the submarines, he had held her heart through it all.

She felt him stir slightly beneath the blankets and lean over to press a soft kiss into her neck.

"Good morning," she said quietly, rolling over to face him.

"Well, right back at you, MacKenzie," he murmured, gazing up at her with sleepy bedroom eyes.

And for him, it had always been fate that he would end up here with her.

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her against him as they sank back into the soft, downy pillows, and she ran her left hand up his bare chest, the diamond sparkling in the morning light. Slowly, he brought his hand up to meet hers and kiss her fingertips, trailing a line of kisses along smooth skin until his mouth came down on hers.

"Merry Christmas, Harm," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Mac."


End file.
